


They That Sow the Wind (Shall Reap the Whirlwind)

by enigmaticblue



Series: S6 Tags Series [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-22
Updated: 2010-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-13 23:12:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/142761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel finds himself thinking of Dean at the oddest moments.</p>
            </blockquote>





	They That Sow the Wind (Shall Reap the Whirlwind)

Castiel finds himself thinking of Dean at the oddest moments—between one sword stroke and the next in the midst of battle, during a heated debate among his brethren, in a moment of respite when all is quiet. Castiel remembers Dean’s strong, sure hands, the curve of his neck, the way his eyelashes shadow his cheek as he sleeps.

 

Castiel remembers how Dean’s hand had felt on his dick, how it felt to be hot and sweaty and satisfied. He thinks perhaps that he has opened a door that ought not to have been opened, that he will never be completely satisfied again if Dean is not at his side.

 

He is pleased when Dean calls. It’s a request, not a demand this time, and Castiel thinks—not for the first time—that he ought to alter the symbols on Dean’s ribs, to create a loophole so that he can find Dean when he wishes, so that Castiel doesn’t have to wait for Dean’s call.

 

Castiel finds Dean pacing the floor in an upstairs bedroom of Bobby’s house. Dean turns to face him, his eyes widening in surprise. “I didn’t think you’d be able to make it.”

 

“I’ve been thinking about you,” Castiel replies honestly. “All the time.”

 

Dean’s lips curve up in a reluctant smile. “Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.” Castiel doesn’t know how to respond. He wants to kiss Dean, to strip Dean bare and try a few more things—things he doesn’t even know the names of right now. Castiel thinks that Dean might teach him.

 

Dean shoves his hands in his pockets and walks over to the window. “Sam has his soul back.”

 

“What did you have to do?” Castiel asks. He knows Dean too well now to think that Dean hasn’t done _something_ , made some deal, to save Sam. “And is he—”

 

Castiel doesn’t know how to finish the question, so he falls silent.

 

“I had to play Death for a day.” There’s bitterness in Dean’s voice that Castiel doesn’t like to hear. “He wanted to teach me a lesson.”

 

“What lesson would that be?” Castiel demands.

 

Dean shrugs. “That there’s a natural order, and I can’t fuck with Death. What else?”

 

“And you… _fucked_ with him before?”

 

“I sold my soul to save Sam, didn’t I?” Dean demands. “And my dad sold his to bring me back. I’ve died so many fucking times, I might as well be a fucking _cat_ , Cas.”

 

“But you aren’t a cat,” Castiel says, not understanding the reference. He’s not even sure what Dean means.

 

Dean snorts. “No, I’m not.”

 

“So, Sam is…back?” Castiel doesn’t know how to quantify the emotions twisting in his chest; he’s almost disappointed, and yet he wants to be happy for Dean, to celebrate with Dean. And yet Dean doesn’t seem ready to celebrate.

 

Dean sighs. “I have no idea what Sam is, other than sleeping. He’s got his soul back, and Death put up a firewall to keep him from remembering his time in hell, but Death can’t guarantee how long that’s going to last. Knowing our luck, we’ve got maybe days, and then we’re probably going to be spectacularly fucked.”

 

Castiel frowns. He has little knowledge of Death, who has nothing to do with angels. Castiel has always been told that when an angel’s self is gathered to his or her father that it isn’t so much a cessation of existence as a culmination.

 

But Castiel does know that Death never gives anything away for free. There is always an equal exchange, unless the other party ends up paying out even more.

 

“Why would Death make such an exchange?” Castiel demands. “He gives nothing away.”

 

“He wants us to continue to doing what we’ve been doing—investigating,” Dean explains. “And he wanted to teach me not to fuck with the natural order. That’s all.”

 

“How do you know that?” Castiel asks. He thinks of losing Dean, and he feels short of breath. “How do you know he won’t demand your life?”

 

Dean shakes his head. “I know this is going to sound crazy, but I know him better than that. Death won’t come for me before my time.”

 

Castiel doesn’t understand why the idea of Dean dying causes a lump to form in his throat. “You can’t die.”

 

“We all die, Cas,” Dean says gently. “I get that now. Someday, my number’s going to be up.”

 

Castiel hates the idea; he wishes that he could somehow guarantee Dean immortality. He almost wishes that he hadn’t started down this road, that he hadn’t opened the door to whatever he has with Dean. Castiel almost wishes that he were still alone.

 

Almost.

 

“Do we have to talk about you dying?” Castiel asks, his tone sharper than me means it to be.

 

Dean smiles, rather than taking offense. “No, we don’t. I didn’t call you here for that anyway.”

 

“What did you call me here for?” Castiel asks.

 

“Just this.” Dean closes the distance between them, pressing his lips to Castiel’s, who opens his mouth to Dean’s tongue.

 

When Dean breaks off the kiss, Castiel is breathing a little harder, and he sees the hunger in Dean’s eyes. Castiel thinks that Dean needs the furlough this time, that he needs a break from everything, and Castiel doesn’t mind giving that to him.

 

Castiel shoves Dean’s jacket off his shoulders. “Let me,” he murmurs. “Please.”

 

“Yeah, okay,” Dean manages to say. “Go for it.”

 

Castiel pulls Dean’s t-shirt off, and then divests himself of his jacket, shirt, and tie.

 

“Have you been thinking about this?” Dean asks.

 

“Yes,” Castiel replies. “At the most inopportune moments. I don’t understand it.”

 

Dean chuckles low in his throat. “Is that right?”

 

“You don’t have to sound so amused.”

 

“Yeah, I do.” Dean’s hands fumble at Castiel’s belt. “You’re still wearing too many clothes.”

 

They manage to get the rest of their clothing off, and Castiel closes his hand around Dean’s cock. “There are things I want to do,” Castiel confesses. “I don’t have a name for them.”

 

“Just describe it,” Dean says. “Or show me.”

 

Castiel hesitates only momentarily, and then he drops to his knees and closes his mouth around Dean’s cock.

 

Dean lets out a noise that Castiel doesn’t think he’s ever heard from Dean before, and he opens his mouth to take Dean in deeper. He feels the head of Dean’s cock hit the back of his throat and has to contend with his gag reflex for the first time. But Castiel has better control over the bodily functions and reactions of his vessel than Jimmy would have had over his body, and he swallows.

 

Castiel may have done a little research before this meeting.

 

Dean lets out a hoarse cry and then comes, his hips jerking, and his body shaking with the effort not to fuck Castiel’s mouth.

 

“Holy shit,” Dean breathes. “That was the first time you did that.”

 

“Did you like it?” Castiel asks, looking up at Dean from his position on the floor.

 

Dean clears his throat. “I think you can safely say that. Get up, Cas. I’ve still got plans.” Dean pushes Castiel onto his back on the bed and kneels between Castiel’s spread legs. “Hang on,” he orders.

 

Castiel watches in fascination as Dean grabs a tube of something and squirts some out onto his hand. “We’re going to go slow,” Dean says. “I forgot to pick up condoms.”

 

Castiel isn’t sure what that means, but he arches up into Dean’s touch as Dean grabs Castiel’s cock in one hand as his other hand dips lower. Dean slowly moves his hand up and down as he pushes one finger into Cas slowly.

 

“I haven’t done this before,” Dean admits. “I’ve exchanged hand jobs with a couple of guys, and I’ve had another guy give me a blowjob, but I’ve never done _this_.”

 

Castiel isn’t sure what to think as Dean pushes a finger deeper inside him, stretching him slowly and adding a second finger. Dean’s fingers twist and stroke, and Castiel lets out a gasp as Dean hits some place inside that sends a frisson of pleasure rocketing through him.

 

Dean grins at him. “Yeah, that’s right, Cas. You’re in good hands.”

 

Castiel’s world narrows to Dean and his clever, dexterous hands, and when he comes, it’s with a shout of surprise.

 

Dean kisses him deeply, resting a lube and semen-streaked hand on Castiel’s hip. “How long can you stay?”

 

“How long do you want me to stay?”

 

Dean sighs. “Longer than you probably can.”

 

“Where is Sam?” Castiel asks, more out of curiosity than anything else.

 

“Sleeping. He didn’t sleep for over a year, so he’s got some catching up to do.”

 

Castiel considers his options, and he thinks about all the duties that wait for him in heaven. “I can stay for a few hours.”

 

“All right.” Dean pulls on his jeans. “Stay put. I’ll be right back.”

 

Dean slips out of the room and returns a few moments later with a warm, wet cloth. He cleans both of them up and crawls into bed, sliding under the covers and pulling Castiel to him. “This okay?”

 

“Is this what you need?” Castiel asks.

 

Dean rests his forehead against the back of Castiel’s head. “Yeah. I just—it would be nice to be close to someone for a while, you know?”

 

Castiel _does_ know. “Yes. This is nice. I’ll wake you up before I leave.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Castiel hears Dean take a deep breath, and his arm tightens around Castiel’s middle. Castiel stays awake, listening to Dean’s breathing deepen and even out, and he rests his hand over Dean’s.

 

He knows that they’re playing a dangerous game. If his brethren find out about the true nature of his relationship with Dean, Castiel knows that he will be abandoned so quickly he’ll be human before he knows what had happened. Castiel has no idea what Sam and Bobby will think of their relationship, although he believes they won’t mind nearly as much as his brethren.

 

And yet, Castiel can’t help but tempt fate. He has given in to pleasure, to temptation, and he will never be the same.

 

 _I have sown the wind_ , Castiel thinks. _And I shall reap the whirlwind._

 

Somehow, Castiel believes that it will all be worth it, no matter what the ultimate result may be.


End file.
